The Difficulties of Loving Prince Arthur
by tweety04
Summary: Prince Arthur kissed Guinevere. Guinevere kissed him back. A story in which Prince Arthur falls in love rather quickly, and Gwen struggles to give herself every reason why she doesn't love him back.
1. Chapter 1

**It Begins with a Kiss:**

Prince Arthur kissed me. I kissed Prince Arthur. The future king of Camelot kissed me. I think I need to sit down. I nod to myself, I do need to sit down. I pull out the bench from underneath the wooden table. I push it back in. I'm too restless to sit down. I want to… no, I _need_ to tell someone.

I could tell Merlin… But Merlin and Arthur are always together. What if he lets something that I say slip to Arthur? But what would I even have to tell him about Arthur? I barely know how I feel about what happened. I barely even understand how it happened.

One minute I was handing him a handkerchief, the next he was kissing me. What in my right mind possessed me to even give him my handkerchief? Oh wait, I know. It's because I told him that he was annoying and arrogant, I complained when he provided dinner, _and_ I took my bed away from him. I forced the future king of Camelot to sleep on my floor...

I shrug. I could say that I gave him the handkerchief to avoid the stocks…? But then, if I can't force myself to believe it then I certainly wouldn't be able to play it off to anyone else. And how did I forget that on top me insulting the future king at every chance, there's an assassin trying to kill him. I could slap myself.

Maybe the token was my way of letting him know that I am here to support him? I certainly did not intend for the token to lead to Prince Arthur kissing me… in my home…in private…with no chaperone.

But then why did I linger? He kept looking at me with those blue eyes. They wouldn't leave my face, and I smiled in response. And then he smiled. And then there was more looking at each other. And then his lips parted. His face relaxed. He tilted his head to the side. I should have turned away. I should have…but I didn't.

And then he was leaning in towards me. And then I knew what was going to happen. And then it happened. My eyes were still open. There was the brown of his tunic so close to my face, and then my eyes were closed. I leaned into the kiss. His hands grasped my token between our bodies, my hands hung at my side wanting so desperately to reach up to him.

This is exactly why men and women aren't permitted to be in such close quarters alone. It doesn't matter who you are or who they are. There's just too much freedom. There's too much temptation.

I take a deep breath.

I could tell Morgana… But she and Arthur have had such a strange relationship. I never know whether or not she likes him. I never know whether or not he likes her. Have they ever kissed? How many girls _has_ Arthur kissed? Probably many. He _is_ quite handsome _and_ a prince.

I suddenly feel stupid. How many tokens has he received from women fawning over him? It is not as if this is his first tournament. How many of those women has he kissed?

I shake my head. These aren't thoughts that I should be concerned with. I should just accept that Prince Arthur kissed me and move on. I shouldn't think about the way that he looked at me. I shouldn't think about the way that his lips felt against mine. I shouldn't think about…

I need a walk. My brain is working too fast. It does that sometimes. And then I get anxious and jittery. I pull a shawl over my shoulders and walk out of the front door. I walk two steps before I turn back to the door. I should clean. I'm good at cleaning. If I wander off now then I may get lost in my thoughts and not be back in time for the tournament.

But do I even want to be at the tournament? Should I even go to the tournament?

If I clean now then my home will be tidy when I get back. And that's good because I am not sure whether or not Merlin and Arthur are coming back tonight. I've made up my mind. I walk the two steps back to my house, open the door, and absentmindedly throw my shawl over the bedpost on my right. I kick the front door closed behind me, grab the broom from it's place against the wall, and try to push away the guilty voice that has been running through my head since the aforementioned kiss.

 _What about Lancelot?_

What about Lancelot? I think to myself. He's gone, and I'm here in Camelot with Merlin, and Morgana, and Arthur…who kissed me.

I begin to sweep. Normally, when I clean, I can clear my thoughts. It's a type of meditation for me. I don't have to think. I just do; and yet, all I can see is Lancelot's pained face etched into my mind.

I feel even more stupid when I think of him. I feel like I've betrayed him by kissing Arthur, but then how could I have betrayed him? Lancelot left to never return, and it's not as if we were committed to each other even when he was here.

Sometimes I lie awake thinking that I loved him. But that would be naïve, wouldn't it? I barely knew him. I think that I just needed someone to love with mother gone, father murdered, and Elyan who knows where.

Sometimes I think that I could have loved him. I think that I would have loved him if he had stayed in Camelot. I wouldn't have cared that Uther had stripped him of his title as a Knight of Camelot. I was the daughter of a man found guilty of aiding a sorcerer. _I_ know that my father was innocent, but that doesn't stop the stares and whispers from following me through Camelot. We could have endured the whispers together.

Lancelot and I were united by our upbringings. We were both surrounded by scandal in the end. Lancelot was sweet and kind. He could listen to me, and I could listen to him. We had many conversations. We cared for one another.

Arthur and I are united in the fact that we both walk in the same castle. The difference is that he's the prince and I'm a maidservant. Arthur and I are united by Merlin and Morgana. Arthur acts like a jerk and then tries to fix it and fails miserably. I talk _at_ Arthur, and I'm unsure of whether or not he's heard me. He infuriates me, but still, I care about him. I care about Arthur as any loyal citizen would to her future king, and he cares about me as a loyal subject.

But then why would he have kissed me? Why would I have kissed him back?

I take a deep breath when I've reached the other end of my home. That didn't take quite as long as I needed it to. I look around my small home. When Lancelot was here, he fit. He was comfortable, and I was comfortable with him being here. With Arthur, he seems to out of place. I find myself nervous of how my humble home comes across in his eyes.

Noise brings my attention to the front window. People are beginning to make their way to the tournament. I should head that way too.

I don't even know why I'm wasting my time with such thoughts.

Lancelot is gone. He's been banished from Camelot, and he cannot return. I cannot leave. Camelot is where my family was happy. If Elyan comes back, he'll come here. Camelot is home. Arthur is here, in Camelot. But Arthur is the future king, and I'm a maidservant.

I chide myself. I don't mean that to sound as if Arthur is leagues above me. I'm happy to serve Morgana as both a servant and a friend. I love my work. I merely mean to say that Arthur and I can never understand each other, and you should have some things in common with the person who you love.

 _Love_ , I scoff at the notion and replace the broom against the wall. I could never love Arthur Pendragon.

I nod to myself, my thoughts finally reaching resolution. I pull my shawl back over my shoulders casting one last glance about the room.

My mind is still working, but the thoughts come more slowly now. I remember the way that Arthur looked at me after he had broken the kiss. He could have said anything. He didn't. Instead he took a deep breath, swallowed, and broke our gaze.

"I must go," was what he said.

I close the door behind me, making sure that it is pulled tight before I follow the crowd to the tournament. Prince Arthur kissed me. I kissed Prince Arthur. It was a mistake, and it shall not happen again.

 **A/N:**

 **I loved The Adventures of Merlin, but I wish that Gwen had retained a bit more of her nervousness from Series 1. This story will take a slower (and hopefully) more realistic approach to her and Arthur's relationship and will include more struggle between her choosing between Arthur and Lancelot. I don't want a love triangle, but more of a coming to terms with her feelings for both men. I hope you enjoy.**


	2. Chapter 2

It Isn't Right:

I am a prat. It's official. Everything that Merlin has said about me is true. Granted, I would never actually admit that to him. It would all go to his head, and I can't have that. He would never shut up about being right (for once in his life).

I stand to allow him to secure the back of my jousting armor. I make a show of pulling my gloves higher over my forearms. He's put them on correctly. I just can't let him _know_ that he's put them on correctly.

He comes back around to my front, so that I can slip my gloved hands into the gauntlets. I avoid his gaze; Merlin would kill me if he knew what had happened with Guinevere this morning.

Not only had Merlin trusted me with her, but I know that he had feelings for her not long ago. He was willing to die for her! Does he still have feelings for her now? Did I kiss someone who Merlin loves?

The idea of Merlin loving someone is laughable; and yet, I'm taken back to that moment. I can see Merlin bursting through the doors of the council meeting.

" _It was me! It was me who used magic to cure Gwen's father."_

Merlin is an idiot. How he thought that plan would work out is a mystery to me, and he's lucky that I was there to assure my father of his idiocy. Had my father believed them then both Merlin and Guinevere may be dead today.

The thought of that entire ordeal unsettles me. I had almost carried out Guinevere's execution? I would have had to had my father not absolved her of all charges. Merlin had been willing to give his life for her. How strong were his feelings for her? Did he still have feelings for her? Why do I even care about Merlin's feelings? Why do I even care who has feelings for Guinevere?

She's a servant. I am the crowned prince. Merlin is a servant. Merlin and Guinevere would make sense. They know each other quite well already. She is kind, and he is…well, he is Merlin.

"Are you alright?" Merlin gazes upon me suspiciously.

I wonder what he saw in her. In the short time that I have known Guinevere, I have seen a number of different sides to her. I have seen her resilient and hard-working when her father was killed in the care of her king, I have seen her stubborn and revolutionary-minded when she insisted the women and children be allowed to fight in Ealdor, I have seen her to be kind and patient every day with Morgana... and Merlin knows her so much better than I do. He probably knows Guinevere in ways that I could only dream of.

They would make an interesting pair, the two of them. Merlin is forgetful and clumsy to Guinevere's calm composure. Or at least to her usually calm composure. She has this way of being calm until she realizes that she has said a little too much to the wrong person. She has a habit of saying things that no one else would dare to say to me and then attempting to take it back. She has a way of stumbling over her words in her haste.

I am suddenly jealous of Merlin. I am not even sure why. It is not because he has a choice about whether or not to love Guinevere. It is not because someone as beautiful and kind as Guinevere sees something in Merlin that she finds attractive. I am jealous that Merlin can _truly_ know her.

Every time she blushes at a comment that has betrayed her, it reminds me that she can't really tell me what she thinks. It reminds me that she is always on guard around me, and I _want_ Guinevere as a friend. I want to be someone who can make her laugh, I want to be someone who she can speak freely to, I long for an honest relationship with someone who is not worried about offending me constantly. I want Guinevere in her tiny home telling me off for being disrespectful. I don't want Guinevere calling me sire and bowing in my presence.

"I'm fine, Merlin," I brush him off, quickly going through a mental checklist about what I _should_ be equipped with versus what Merlin _has_ equipped me with.

Having Merlin as a manservant is just as much work for me as it is for him.

I wonder what is she doing? Is she sitting out in the crowd, waiting for me to fight? Is she rooted to the same spot in the kitchen, thinking of our kiss? I sit back down in the chair pretending to be invested in the match.

I cannot believe that I lost my composure. I cannot believe that I took advantage of the situation like that.

No, taking advantage isn't the right phrase. Gwen would never let me be in charge of any situation. I smile to myself. She's feisty. I like that about her.

Merlin glances to me. I wipe the smile off of my face. Merlin has seen me prepare for tournaments numerous times. Not once has he found me caught up in a lovesick daze over a girl. Let alone, his best friend.

No, lovesick isn't the right term. Not once has he found me _distracted_ by a girl moments before a tournament.

What was I thinking?

Well, I hadn't been thinking. That's the problem in itself. If I _had_ been thinking then there would have been a number of various reasons for not leaning down and kissing her right in the middle of her kitchen.

Guinevere is a servant.

I _almost_ killed Guinevere.

My father _succeeded_ in killing her father.

I don't even want to begin to think of what she thinks of my father. Especially not after knowing what she truly thinks of me. I certainly hope that she doesn't hold my father's actions against me. But how could she not?

I stand by my father's side day after day whether I agree with his decisions or not. It is our duty to stand by one another publically. Not many people understand that. She doesn't know that I defended her behind closed doors. No one does. She only saw me standing silent by his side as he tore her family apart.

The familiar weight of my chest plate is soothing in a strange way. It's much better than wondering whether or not Guinevere hates my family.

The list continues.

Guinevere may have feelings for Merlin.

Merlin certainly has feelings for Guinevere.

Have Guinevere and Merlin kissed? The outrageous thought almost makes me laugh aloud. Merlin is… Merlin. I recoil at the thought. If Merlin and I had kissed the same woman…no, she wouldn't have kissed him. Even if Guinevere could not marry higher than her station, she could surely do better than Merlin.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I need to focus. Why am I even thinking about Guinevere? I have a tournament to compete in and my challenger is technically superb. I'm going to have to concentrate if I have any chance of winning. I have to prove that I can win this on my own, without anyone having any knowledge of who I am, without anyone ensuring that I will win. I wonder whether or not my father would think that I could win.

I wonder whether or not she thinks that I can win.

And there she is. Just like that she's invaded my thoughts once more. She had kissed me back, hadn't she? She had. I remember the way that she looked up at me with her large, round eyes. I remember suddenly being jolted out of whatever trance she held me in. I remember the way that our surroundings had come back into my focus. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with her home. It was just where Gwen belonged. It wasn't where I belonged.

"They're nearly ready for you, sire," William hands me my helmet.

I nod in thanks, looking to the steel of the armor that her father forged for me one year prior. I can't help but to feel that I had a part in killing him. I took the last of her family from her. I made her the lonely girl who walks through the lower town alone. I can't honestly say that I noticed much about Gwen before this past year. I can't say that I ever had any interest in getting to know her, but I do remember always seeing her smiling.

I can remember asking myself what was so good about being a servant when I would catch sight of her smiling as she finished a flower arrangement. I remember asking myself what could be so great about being the daughter of Tom the blacksmith when I would catch sight of her walking arm in arm with her father in the lower town.

I saw that smile again last night. I saw it while we talked and ate. I wish that I could see it more often.

But I can't be the one to make her smile, I realize. My father would never approve, not even of a friendship between us. Merlin would question my motives. Morgana would think that I had the worst of intentions.

I just like to see her happy. I've come to care about Guinevere in the last year. I've come to care about her much more in this past week. But what happened this morning cannot happen again. Not because I don't want it to…certainly, not because I don't want it to. It just isn't right.

 **A/N:**

 **I hope that everyone had a good Father's Day! Let me know what you thought about Arthur's POV. I felt like his thoughts would be a bit calmer and less jumbled than Gwen's, so hopefully I portrayed him correctly.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Alone with Arthur:**

Perhaps _things will be different when you are king…_

How could I have been so stupid? I can't seem to think of anything else as I make Morgana's bed the following morning. Things have returned back to normal. Arthur is back in the castle, and I am at home alone. I work, I go home, I sleep, and the cycle continues.

Arthur told me that what had happened between us could never happen again, his father wouldn't understand. It was a completely understandable decision. I can honestly say that I didn't expect for it to happen again. I had come to the conclusion that the kiss happened because we were caught up in a moment of recklessness. It's just that I didn't expect to hear him say it. It's silly, I know.

I just didn't expect for my heart to race when he called me to him. I didn't expect to hear him tell me that it couldn't happen again. I didn't even realize that I wanted it to happen again. But sure enough, my heart dropped when the words left his mouth. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but I was caught off guard, and I didn't have a chance to think clearly before I spoke:

 _Perhaps things will be different when you are king._

What I should have said was:

 _I understand._

 _That's fine, Sire._

 _What a relief!_

 _That's quite alright with me. I've been over here worrying about it anyways, so thank you for not letting me waste any more of my time trying to analyze what happened._

But no. I went with:

 _Perhaps things will be different when you are king._

Life would be so much easier if I were mute.

I finish with the bed and turn to the flowers that I brought in for Morgana this morning. I want to fiddle with them, but they look perfect already. I have already arranged them. It's just that arranging flowers is soothing to me.

I'm about to remove them from the vase when I realize that I still need to run the laundry down to the kitchens for the washmaid to take care of. I can organize the flowers once I return.

I turn towards her wardrobe and nearly jump out of my skin when I see a figure leaning against the door to the servant's hallway.

"Merlin! Don't scare me like that," I scold him, pressing a hand to my chest in a weak attempt to slow my heartbeat.

"Sorry," he smiles sheepishly. "I have Arthur's laundry to take down, and I know that you have Morgana's to do so I just figured we could walk to the kitchens together. I haven't seen you much recently."

I nod. It's because I've been avoiding him. I lean down to pick up the basket.

"Of course we can walk down together," I smile.

I hope it's not one of my large grimace-smiles. I've never been good at lying to Merlin, let alone anyone else. Though, I'm not really lying, I remind myself. I'm just choosing to omit all details concerning Arthur's lips upon mine…

We slip into a comfortable silence as I follow him through the empty servants' hall. We're allowed to use most of the hallways in the castle but not when doing our actual work. The noblemen and noblewomen do not want to see their laundry being done; they only want to find everything that they need in their wardrobes when they want it.

"I never said thank you for letting Arthur stay with you."

I gulp nervously. This is exactly why I had been avoiding him.

"You don't have to thank me," I force a smile. "I was just doing my duty to help out the prince."

That sounded natural enough, didn't it?

"I do have something to ask you though," he stops and turns towards me, a solemn look upon his face.

Oh no. Did Arthur say something to him? Surely he wouldn't have. Surely, he is just as embarrassed about what happened between us as I am.

"What is it?"

A group of girls laugh behind us, and Merlin waits for them to pass.

"What in the world possessed you to ask him to make you dinner?"

"I didn't!" I exclaim, both outraged and relieved, "Is that what he told you?"

"I just couldn't imagine Arthur _offering_ to cook dinner," he supplies, resuming his walk. "And if you asked him to make you dinner then I worry for your sanity. Where would Arthur Pendragon have even learned to cook? I doubt that he could even identify a chicken if it were lying dead before him, feet up in the air, head chopped…"

"I understand your point, Merlin," I chuckle cutting him off. "Well, he did offer."

"What made him do that?"

"I'm not sure," I shrug.

There is no way that I'm letting Merlin know that I lost my composure around Arthur. Merlin is disrespectful to Arthur all the time, and I don't want to tell him that I was rewarded for disrespecting the prince. It would only serve to encourage him.

"Well…" he looks to me expectantly, "how was it?"

I narrow my eyes as he turns to hide the smile on his face. I can see his cheeks widen into a smile even though he's not looking towards me.

"I know that he sent you to fetch dinner from the kitchens," I inform him.

He stops in surprise, and I take the lead as we turn into the kitchens.

"Next time you and Arthur plan to trick me," I place the basket on the far sink for a wash maid to get to, "you could at least try to use my plates."

Merlin's ears flame red, "I forgot the plates."

"Yes, you did," I jump for the second time today as a voice drawls behind us.

"Arthur! Don't scare me like that," I breathe.

I'm breathless because I'm frightened. I am not breathless because of him. I think?

He cocks an eyebrow. I see two maids in the corner of the kitchen whispering and taking in the exchange.

"I mean," I falter, "sire."

Merlin chuckles, "What are you doing here?"

"I was hungry, and my manservant was no where to be found. So I decided to come and fetch a snack for myself..."

His tone implies that Merlin should apologize or even offer to bring Arthur a snack. Merlin is oblivious to his duties though, and I can't help but laugh as he continues to stare blankly at the prince. Arthur turns his attention back to me.

Is there anywhere else that I can pretend that I should be?

"Is something amusing to you, Guinevere?"

It's the first time that I've heard him say my name in days, and my stomach jolts at the thought of what happened last time we were this familiar with one another.

"Nothing, sire," I shake my head before turning my attention to Merlin. "Why don't you get a snack for the prince and accompany him upstairs?"

Merlin's eyes widen in understanding, "You wanted me to…"

Arthur's brows raise, "Ah, yes, Merlin. _Now_ you understand."

"I do," Merlin nods walking to the other side of the room to grab a plate.

"It is much too late for that now though," my heart stops at the thought of Arthur getting himself a snack. "I believe you have some armor to polish before training?"

"Yes, sire," Merlin brushes past the both of us, turning back to roll his eyes at the back of Arthur's head.

"Guinevere," Arthur looks to the women surrounding us, "would you mind bringing a plate up to my room?"

Yes, I do mind! I've been avoiding him too. I cannot be alone with him… in his chambers. It's improper, and I certainly don't think it's smart on either of our parts.

"Of course, sire," I nod with a bow of my head. "I'll have it up in a moment."

He nods and is gone as quickly as he appeared. I take a deep breath and steady myself against a wooden table. I'm not sure that I'm ready to be alone with Arthur Pendragon just yet, but I don't have a choice in the matter.

 **A/N:**

 **I'm not the happiest with this chapter. Gwen's POV is honestly harder than I thought it would be, but it'll do. I already have the next couple of chapters written, and they're from Arthur's POV so that'll be fun! Leave a comment to let me know what you think! Happy Fourth of July!**


	4. Chapter 4

I'm almost positive that I'm contradicting myself. One minute I'm telling Guinevere that we can never kiss again because my father wouldn't approve. And yet, in the next I'm inviting her to my room…alone…that probably was not my best idea. And yet, here I am, pacing my room, waiting for her to come walking through the door. How long could it take to put some cheese on a plate?

There's a knock at the door. I remind myself to be gracious, even if it feels as though she took an hour to bring my food. It's not really the food that I wanted after all. I just want to see her. I did not even know that it was possible to miss someone who I see every day. I sit down in my chair. I stand up. I cross my feet. I uncross them. I stand and settle on a strong stance, pretending to be looking at some important documents on my table. It's a preliminary dinner menu for my father's upcoming birthday feast, but she doesn't need to know that.

"Come in," I call.

She looks different today. She has worn most of her hair down so that her curls just manage to brush over her shoulders. I watch her walk in. She's either refusing to meet my gaze or there's something very interesting on the floor. Though, knowing Merlin's cleaning, the latter is certainly a possibility. Her cheeks are flushed this morning. I wonder if I made her rush, or is she nervous to see me? Or perhaps she always looks like this, and I just never took the time to notice before. She looks absolutely beautiful.

"Sire," she gives a slight bow of her head as she places the plate of cheese, bread, and grapes onto the table.

"There's no need to be formal now, Guinevere," my voice is softer than I anticipated it being.

She refuses to meet my gaze, "There is always a need to be proper." She glances up and stares at the wall behind me, "Do you need anything else?"

She doesn't wait for me to respond before she begins to turn away.

"Wait," I command.

She turns towards me. I do not want her to feel obligated to stay. I take a step from behind the desk. She takes a step backwards. I extend a hand.

"Please," I do not mean to beg, "I just wanted to speak with you for a moment."

"What would you like to speak about, sire?"

I cringe.

It is not that she's saying anything wrong. It's just the formality in her speech. It's the way that she stands with her back straight and never meets my gaze. It's the air that the palace brings with it. She's serving me. We are no longer equals.

Another thought crosses my mind. Or is this the tension that I've brought into the room? I kissed her. I took our relationship to a level where it could never be expected to thrive. What do I want? What does she want? I shouldn't want anything, but I'm realizing rather quickly that that isn't true. I want to have a relationship with Guinevere. My seeing Guinevere when I see Merlin and Morgana is no longer enough.

"About what happened before…"

"We agreed that it could not happen again," she supplies.

"We did," I nod.

"You said…"

I cut her off, "But you said that things may be different…"

"I spoke without thinking."

"If things were different…?"

"I brought your cheese plate!" we both jump as the door to my chambers burst open.

I could strangle my manservant in this moment.

I could cross the room, wrap my hands around his tiny neck…but no. Guinevere would hate me if I killed her best friend.

We both look to Merlin. Merlin looks between the two of us.

"What are you doing here, Gwen?" Merlin's confused as per usual.

I can see Gwen's hands wringing themselves under her apron.

"I asked Gwen to bring me a cheese plate since you couldn't be bothered," I supply, brushing them both off, by turning my attention back to the menu.

"I was polishing _your_ armour," Merlin mutters under his breath.

"It should have been done earlier," I mutter back.

I should make up some reason to have him put in the stocks. Guinevere and I haven't been alone since those nights in her home, and Merlin just had to find a way to interrupt us. I don't know when Guinevere is free. I don't know when we'll have another chance alone together. We were so close to… _something_.

I'm back to planning ways to kill Merlin.

I'll admit that I'm not really angry with Merlin. I would consider myself more frustrated if I'm being honest. It's just so much easier when I can blame him for everything.

Merlin is a much better scapegoat than I anticipated him being. And though I'm irritated by his interruption I'm also slightly relieved to see him. I wanted to see Guinevere; I wanted to talk to her. I wanted some sort of resolution. I wanted her to tell me what she wants so that I could determine what I want. But I'm also slightly afraid of what the conclusion to a conversation between Guinevere and myself might be. What if she has no desire to…what? To be with me? It's laughable really.

She is so much better than a love affair. And I would never be one of those philandering princes who spends his days gallivanting with the servants behind his palace walls. She would never allow herself to be used like that. So then what do I really expect to come out of this encounter?

Maybe I just wanted to see her. I want to know that she feels the same confusion that I do. I want to know that it's not all in my head. It's torture to see her and not be able to cross the distance and take her into my arms. I can't remember the last time I longed for something the way that I long to feel her lips upon mine. And now our moment is gone.

The moment is gone, and I worry that I may not get Guinevere alone to myself again. I worry that I may not have the courage or the opportunity to broach the subject again.

Merlin moves to put the plate down on the table.

"Well I don't need two, Merlin," I snap letting my frustration get the best of me.

He looks a little hurt, and I see Gwen watching the exchange. I don't want her to think that I'm a prat. I _am_ a prat, but I cannot let her know that I am.

"I'm sorry," I sigh. "I meant to say that I don't need two plates. You are welcome to that plate," I motion to the plate before meeting Guinevere's gaze, "both of you."

I don't need to tell Merlin twice, it seems. He tucks into the cheese immediately. You would think he was starving at the rate that he is going.

"I should check on Morgana," Guinevere moves to leave.

"She's having her afternoon meal with my father," I supply. "They won't be done for at least another hour. Please," I motion to a seat, "stay. You can keep Merlin company."

I say Merlin because I cannot admit that I'm the one who wants to spend time with her. I say Merlin because I cannot admit that I'm the one who can't tear my eyes away from her when she laughs. I watch her as she sits tentatively. She blushes when she meets my gaze.

Merlin is blabbering on about some root that Gaius sent him to get the evening before last. She eats a few grapes, laughs at some joke that Merlin tells. I nod when she tells me that I could really use some flowers in here. If she brings me the flowers then I shall cherish them, I reply. I try to make it sound as sarcastic as possible. Maybe that way Merlin won't catch on. I mean every word, but he can't know that, and he says nothing.

A little less than an hour later, Guinevere stands. We've been telling Merlin about the legends of Camelot that scared us as children. I share a tale that my father had told me once. He told me about a sorceress who could manipulate life. She could bring the dead back to life; she could create life. She could do anything that you asked of her. But it all came at a price. For every life that she gave, she took another. I had walked around scared that at any moment the people around me would begin to drop like flies. My worst fear was that all of the inhabitants of Camelot would begin to die at her hand and that I would be the last to go. I've always hated the idea of watching those that I love die. I'd rather be the first to go if I had a choice.

Her voice brings me back from my thoughts of death. Guinevere tells a tale of a warlock who was said to snatch up little children who wandered alone at the edge of the woods. She said something about her and Elyan refusing to go anywhere without another for the longest time. I suddenly find myself jealous of a young boy who I know nothing about. Merlin and I look at each other. I want to ask her who Elyan is, but she's so invested in the story that I can't interrupt. I make a mental note to ask her about him if I get another chance.

I laugh when she says that Leon used escort the two of them through the woods using stolen broomsticks from the stables as protection. Leon's been playing the hero from a young age it would seem. Her face lights up at my laughter.

"You have to imagine," she stands from the chair. "Leon was around 9 or 10, and all skin and bones, and hair. Just curls on curls," she unpins the rest of her hair so that she can better demonstrate his hair hanging in his face. "I was 7 and Elyan was 5. And the three of us would go into the woods for herbs, and we would jump at every noise thinking that this scary old warlock was coming to get us."

There's a noise outside of the door, and Gwen starts. Merlin and I laugh.

"You three would have certainly been a threatening sight to behold," I chuckle.

She holds my gaze for a moment, "I'm sure we would have been."

There are more voices outside of the door, and she breaks eye contact to straighten her apron.

"I should probably go."

I hate to agree with her. But as more voices sound outside my door, we run a higher chance of someone walking in and discovering the three of us. I can't even imagine my father's reaction if the crowned prince of Camelot was found dining at the same table as two servants. Still, I want to tell her to sit back down. I want to tell her that I don't care what anyone thinks. I could listen to her tell stories for ages.

She starts walking towards the door, "Morgana will be back soon."

She doesn't give me a chance to protest this time. She's already gone, and I watch as the door closes behind her.

"Ahem," Merlin pretends to cough suddenly standing beside me.

If I'm being honest, I completely forgot that he was in the room. I don't know how he managed to leave the chair to end up at my side.

"What is it, Merlin?" I draw out his name just to sound more annoyed than I am.

"Are you going to tell me what happened with Gwen or should I guess?"

 **A/N:**

 **Uh oh! Merlin knows that something is up!**

 **Thank you so much for the reviews. I love hearing what you guys have to say, and they honestly make my day. I'm happy that you're enjoying the story, and I hope you stick around to see what's next! How will Guinevere and Arthur manage to see each other again?**


	5. Chapter 5

Forgetting Merlin:

I really should tell her that Merlin knows…I didn't intend to tell him. I really didn't, but he knew already. Surely, Guinevere would understand. She's reasonable. I can almost hear my father laughs at my thought, 'A woman can never be relied upon to be reasonable, Arthur,' he would slay, slapping me on the back as he guffaws. No, I better not tell Guinevere.

If I'm quite honest, I'm surprised at Merlin's intuition on the matter. I suppose he may know me better than I had realized. Or perhaps Guinevere is just so completely transparent about her feelings that he realized that something had happened and put two and two together…?

No. I nearly laugh aloud at the thought. While I _can_ rely on Guinevere to wear her heart on her sleeve, I can _hardly_ rely on Merlin to put anything together. Especially not when it comes to the emotions of a woman. If I know _nearly_ nothing about women then Merlin knows _absolutely_ _ **nothing**_ about women.

I laugh when I think about earlier this afternoon. I had been out in the lower village investigating a rumor about their being Druids spotted in Camelot when I spied Merlin returning from an errand for Gaius. The poor sod was covered in dirt holding a bouquet of herbs in his hands. I was trying to think of something to yell about his stench that wouldn't be too harsh when a town girl had approached him. Leon and I had watched in amazement. First off, that a girl was speaking to Merlin. Second, that she was approaching him in his...state.

She had smiled, swayed back and forth between feet.

We hadn't been able to hear them, so naturally we took it upon ourselves to supply the conversation.

"Merlin," Leon supplied in his high-pitched attempt of a woman, "I was just wondering…would you mind coming 'round to mine? I have a rash," I struggled to hide my laughter, "that I'd like you to see about."

Though we _couldn't_ hear the conversation, we _were lucky enough_ to witness Merlin's entire face and neck flush red, he rubbed the back of his head, "I think that…umm…Gaius would be better suited….to check your…rash," a younger knight Doran had supplied trying to join in on the fun.

I laughed, slapped him upon the chest, "Merlin would never have been able to get a full sentence out."

The girl had left by this point, leaving Merlin standing alone on the edge of the village.

"He probably got out, 'I…uh…well…' and she got so bored that she left him," I mutter.

The knights had guffawed at my stammering impression. Merlin turned, saw us, and mouthed something that looks strangely like _cabbage head_ before continuing his path back to the castle. His posture was stiffer and he appeared to be talking to himself, probably about what an awful person I was. It had made the knights all laugh even harder, but I did make a mental note to let him have an early night. Both because I felt a little bit like a cabbage head and because I decided that I needed to have a talk with Guinevere.

"Aww, it was just a joke, Merlin!" I had called after him.

He hadn't turned around.

I chuckle at the memory, Merlin bumbling on like the village idiot. I then remember that _I'm the one_ out in the middle of the square, laughing to myself. If I don't hurry and move along then everyone in the village will think the cloaked stranger wandering through their streets is the village idiot. I pull my cloak tight around my body. Should anyone recognize me, I cannot even imagine what my father would do.

The prince out unescorted as night falls! What scandal! I roll my eyes and continue onwards.

The village is nearly empty at this time of the evening. I can hear the bustle of families in their homes; see the faint glow of fire from underneath their doors. I can hear the distant clang of knights' armor as they march along their designated paths, keeping watch over Camelot.

A rat scurries in the space between two homes, and I struggle not to shout. I hate rats. Merlin sweeps my room for rats at least three times a week. I should send him to sweep Guinevere's room. She shouldn't have to deal with the vermin either.

I wonder what she is doing right now. Is she cleaning her supper from the table? Is she already asleep in her tiny home? I should have told her that I was coming…if I'm honest with myself, I didn't tell her because I already know what her answer would have been. She would have told me not to come.

I straighten up when I see her home in sight.

"Guinevere, I have something to tell you," I practice my speech as I approach the door.

No, that's too solemn.

"Hi, Gwen," I smile.

Gwen sounds strange on my lips.

"Guinevere…"

"Arthur?" a voice hisses behind me, and I nearly jump out of my skin.

"Guinevere?" I hiss back incredulously, as she comes to stand in front of me "What are you doing out alone at this time of night?"

"I needed more water," she shrugs.

"It could be dangerous! You don't know what could be out there," I'm tempted to take her by the arm and lead her into the home myself.

"Well, it's not like I have anyone else that I could send out to get it for me, Arthur."

Is it just me? Or does she sound annoyed?

"Besides," she continues, "the better question is what are _you_ doing out of the castle at this time of night?"

"Well," I mirror her tone, "if you must know, I came to see you."

She turns away from me and moves forward to her home, she makes it all the way to the door when she realizes that I haven't followed her, "Are you coming?"

"Are you inviting me in?"

"Well, I think the privacy of my home would be better than someone discovering the Prince of Camelot out here with me at this hour."

I think over the prospect, "Yes, I believe you are right."

I swear that I hear her mutter, "I know," as I step through the open doorway. She follows behind me, closing the door as soon as she's crossed through. And just like that, we're alone. She holds her hands out expectantly, waiting for me to hand her my cloak. I ignore her, removing it and holding it in my arms. The house is as I remembered. Dimly lit, smelling of lavender and other herbs.

And then I notice the purple flowers sitting in the middle of the table. I lightly touch one that has fallen out.

"Where did these come from?" I try not to sound suspicious, but I want to know where she got them, and then I'd like to exile the miscreant who gave them to her.

"Merlin picked them for me while he was looking for herbs for Gaius," she pours water into a goblet for herself and pours wine for me.

I watch her carefully. I watch the way that her hair falls in front of her face as she leans forward. She has light brown highlights that are illuminated in the glow of the candlelight.

"Sire?" Was she speaking to me? "I don't mean to be rude, but why exactly are you here?" I'm taken aback at her exasperated tone, at the way that she shoves the goblet towards me.

"Arthur," I correct her softly, begging her to look at me.

She looks up at the gentleness in my voice, to be honest, I didn't know that my voice could be that soft either.

"Arthur," her warm brown eyes dance in the soft yellow light.

She looks tired now that I can get a good look at her. Her hair falls into her face not because it always falls that way but because hours of work have caused it to fall loose from its place at the back of her head. There are large bags under her eyes and her hands are covered in dust. She notices me looking and quickly wipes them on her apron.

"What do you need, Arthur?"

"I wanted to see you."

"I can't," she steps away when I reach for her hands.

"Guinevere."

"Stop," she insists, she takes a deep breath. "You have to understand that my work is here, my life is here," her voice breaks. "What would happen after?"

And suddenly I understand. Guinevere is here. Her father was here. Merlin is here. Morgana is here. Everything that she has ever known is here. What should happen if things ended poorly between us? I'm the crowned prince, the future king of Camelot. I'm surely not going anywhere. What would things ending well even look like? Ending. I hate to think it, but we would have to end at some point wouldn't we? Or what if we didn't? What would that look like? Me, a king, and Guinevere, my what? My mistress? She deserves so much more than that.

In this moment she looks so small. She looks scared, her slender arms wrap around her waist as if protecting her. From what? From me?

"Guinevere," my voice is soft as I stand from the table.

Her arms drop as she looks up at me again. I note the tears that have pooled in her warm brown eyes. She is defeated. She doesn't object when I wrap my arms around her. It takes a moment, and then her arms are around me as well. I don't want anything but to protect this woman. I want to protect her always.

I don't know who moves away first but the moment that she is gone I wish that she was back in my embrace. I'm cold where her body was. She smiles, it's small but it's there, and warmth fills me once more.

"You should probably go."

I nod, "You should get some rest."

"Are you saying that I look tired?" her eyebrows raise in a challenge.

I'm not sure how to respond. She does look tired, but something tells me that I'm not supposed to say that.

"I am going to give you a piece of advice," I nod for her to continue, "you should never tell a woman that she looks tired."

"I did not think that you were the type of woman who would mind," I shoot back.

"Oh, I'm not," she chuckles, "but I think that you could use some advice when it comes to women."

I realize then that I don't think that I want any other women. I don't even want to think about other women. I don't want to speak to a woman who would care if I told her that she looked tired. No one else would matter, and I'm not sure when exactly that happened.

Her eyes find mine, and she blushes but she does not look away. I take a step towards her. She does not move away.

"You should leave," she licks her lips, and I'm drawn towards them.

"Do you really want me to?"

She just shakes her head before my lips crash into hers, her arms encircle my neck as her body arches into mine.

My wine lies forgotten on the table, and I realize somewhere in the back of my mind that I've forgotten to tell her about Merlin knowing about us.

A/N:

So this one time, I went back to school and didn't update a story for months...I'm not going to bore anyone with excuses. I'll just apologize and hope that this makes up for it. If you're still reading then let me know what you think! I love hearing from you guys! And don't worry. Some drama is on its way for ya :-P


	6. Chapter 6

Home:

 _Guinevere_

My thoughts are elsewhere as we ride on to Morgana's father's grave. My thoughts are with Arthur, with what our kiss may have meant. My thoughts are with the jug of water that has appeared upon my doorstep every night since he first visited my home. I assume that it's his way of letting me know that I am taken care of. I assume it's there as a token of his affection, to let me know that he truly cares.

If I am honest though, that jug of water scares me more than almost anything else. I feel as though I haven't even begun to process my relationship with Arthur and yet, here he is, making gestures to show how much he cares. To others they may seem small, a jug of water in the evenings, a smile when he catches my eye at mealtimes. If it were any other person, the gestures may seem small to me as well. But Arthur isn't any other person. Arthur is the crowned prince of Camelot.

I'm not naïve enough to believe that he is the one leaving tokens at my doorstep. Just the other knight I received a dinner on my doorstep. And though my heart swelled with joy, I also worried that someone may find plates with the royal seal on them in my home. They may think that I am stealing from my employers. These are the things that Arthur fails to understand. He stands to lose nothing from fancying a common villager whereas I stand to lose everything.

Every time I hear a whisper in the halls of Camelot, I worry. We've been told stories of women who allowed themselves to fall for princes and kings. They were worshipped until they were deemed unsatisfying any longer. Until their affairs were discovered by wives, or they grew too old. I can't imagine Arthur tossing me aside but I really don't know, do I?

I am not naïve enough to believe that Arthur leaves me flowers or brings me anything from the castle. He has so many duties as the crowned prince. But then who does he send? Is it Merlin? Does Merlin know about us? Is it one of his knights? Either way, this means that someone else must have some inkling, some idea of his affection for me. Who has he entrusted with that information? Is it someone who is trustworthy? Are all of the knights laughing at the thought of Arthur's tryst with the likes of me?

I can imagine it now. Me, walking through the castle, while lords and ladies whisper after me. The knights giving me strange looks, knowing more than they should, and reveling in the fact that they know it. I've never been noticed in Camelot, but I've always enjoyed that. I've always liked it that way. I like slipping under everyone's gaze unnoticed. I go to work, I go home, I prepare a meal, I may speak to Merlin and Gaius if I stop by before heading home to the village, but for the most part the days are uniform. I know what to expect.

Arthur ruins my routine, and I've enjoyed it. I can't lie and say that I don't. I enjoy not knowing what to expect when it comes to him. I enjoy the way that he looks at me when we see one another. I laugh at the way that he stands a little straighter, and I melt at the way that he interacts with the people of the lower village. I didn't realize how kind he was to them before. Arthur has always been present amongst us, but I see him notice us more now. I'm not even sure if he realizes he's doing it. He seems to care so much more now.

"Gwen!" I realize that Morgana has asked me a question.

She raises her eyebrows in anticipation of an answer, "Yes, milady?" I answer uneasily, sure to be proper in the presence of her guards.

"Where is your mind?" she laughs as she trots forward.

I blush, "I'm sorry," I resolve myself to remember whose presence I am in, "I don't know."

But I do know. My mind rests with the Prince of Camelot. My mind lingers over the way that he held me mere weeks ago. My mind is preoccupied with the feeling of his calloused hands upon my face, on the feeling of his arms wrapped around me. I think back to the look on his face after he kissed me. It was a pained expression; his eyebrows had drawn close together. We hadn't resolved anything. I still have the same fears that I held before. The difference now is that I know that Arthur feels something for me. It should please me, it should reassure me in some way. And yet, it scares me more than anything else.

"You look troubled, Gwen," I look to see Morgana watching me with her piercing green eyes.

"I'm fine," I reassure, looking straight ahead so that she may not see the doubt in my face.

What can happen anyways? If Arthur were to pursue me then I would be doomed to be the mistress of the future king. And I certainly would not be satisfied with that. I have…feelings…rather strong feelings…for Arthur, that much is true. Arthur clearly has some sort of feelings for me. If it were any other man, I would feel happy with that information. I would feel happy with knowing that my feelings were reciprocated. But here, in this situation, how can I be expected to take a husband when I share feelings with another? I am getting to the age where I need to think about families and being able to provide for myself long-term. Would I be expected to remain unwed and be confined to the walls of Camelot?

No, I scold myself. I am getting far too ahead of myself. I like Arthur, I enjoy his presence, I certainly enjoying kissing him, but we are young. I know plenty of girls who court at least two men before they marry. Why am I even entertaining the thoughts of the future with Arthur? He may just be looking for some fun before Uther decides that it's time for him to marry.

I want to rub my temples and lie down. If I had only been a bit of fun for Arthur then he wouldn't have gone out of his way to accommodate me. He has made it clear that he has feelings for me. Should I just wait and see what happens? But Arthur _has_ to marry. He has to marry a princess who will strengthen Camelot. Even the smallest of children are not deluded to believe that the prince could marry for love.

"You're very secretive these days," Morgana distracts me from my thoughts, "I'm beginning to think there's a man involved."

I laugh, "When do I get to meet any decent men?" It's surprising how easily it comes to me, lying to Morgana, but I look forward and continue on, praying that the conversation may end.

She doesn't push the topic.

* * *

 _Arthur_

I struggle to focus on my father's words to the council. I straighten up, stretch out my fingers. I try not to hide a smirk when I glance over at Merlin, he's standing in the corner looking as though he could fall asleep at a moments notice. Part of me wonders what he must stay up doing late at night. It's not as though he could be tired from his job. He's perpetually late and always trying to leave before I've dismissed him. I would spend more time asking myself what he could possibly be doing, but my mind is already drifting back to where I was a few nights ago. My mind is stuck on a girl who lives in what is fast becoming my favorite little home in all of Camelot.

I like seeing Guinevere later in the day. I like the way that her hair falls into her face after a long day's work. I like seeing Guinevere when she is not preoccupied with looking acceptable. I know women who go out of their way to make sure that their skin is perfect, that every single hair is in the proper place, that they get enough sleep so that the under part of their eyes looks flawless…I find it ridiculous. Guinevere is human, she yawns when she's tired. Her smile accentuates the small bags under her eyes that indicate that she spent a night worrying over Morgana. She doesn't care about herself because she's busy caring for everyone else. I love that about her.

It's a scary thought how easily the word love enters my mind. I wouldn't say that I love Guinevere. I don't know enough about her to make that bold a claim. But there are so many things that I love about her. There's so much more that I hope to learn about her. I don't think that I could ever tire of discovering new things about her. I've discovered that she learned the blacksmith trade from her father. I've learned that I should probably go to her with my bruised armour than send it to Merlin who takes it to her anyways. I've learned that she smells of the lavender that she keeps around her home. I've learned that I love the way that she says my name when she's annoyed with me. She draws out the 'Ar' of my name. When she's happy with me, my name tumbles out of her mouth in a laugh. I want to hear my name on her tongue again…soon. Maybe tonight even.

Excitement courses through my veins at the thought of seeing her again. I'm willing to take the risk, to feel her lips upon mine again. I would go to her again even if it only meant listening to her speak. I could listen to her talk about her childhood for hours and hours on end.

I know that my feelings do not make sense. I know that I cannot expect anything of Guinevere. After all, at the end of the day, I have a duty to Camelot. I have a duty to secure an alliance through my marriage. There is no way that I can expect Guinevere to be mine, but that does not mean that I can help but want it. If I could court Guinevere…I'm sure, I cannot entertain such thoughts, I find myself shaking my head. I must enjoy what we have now. I must make it last as long as I can. I resolve to visit her tonight despite the risk. Who knows how many opportunities I may get.

* * *

 _Guinevere_

 _Run,_ it's all that I can think to do. I run as fast as my legs will carry me, but it's not fast enough. I can feel my legs getting ahead of me. I'm not in control of them any longer, they feel as though they are moving of their own volition.

I can hear the men behind me. I can hear their chains swinging, their breath panting, but no matter how hard I pump my legs, they're still faster. Weighed down by their chains and heavy bellies does not prevent them from catching up with our layers of skirts and feminine figures.

The pain that comes when they catch me by the hair causes me to scream out in agony. We've been caught.

* * *

 _Arthur_

My heart races with excitement. I haven't seen Guinevere since this morning. I had to help Morgana onto her horse, I had wished her a safe journey.

Guinevere had been beside us, and I had longed so desperately to help her. Morgana had been breaking the rules since we were children. If she could beat my knights and even myself on occasion then surely she could mount a horse by herself.

I had caught Guinevere's eyes. I had tried to convey everything that I felt in my gaze. She seemed sad, unsure under the glow of the sun. I wanted to reassure her of my feelings, but it was impossible in front of Morgana and the guards. I wanted to wrap my arms around her back and bring my lips down upon hers. I had settled instead for an imperceptible nod of my head, and lingering on the steps of the castle to watch her leave.

I grab my cloak from where Merlin has placed it haphazardly upon the chair. I should have no fear of being recognized tonight. For although the material of my cloak is beyond the resources of the villagers, the way that Merlin has lain it down has resulted in a number of wrinkles which should only lend to my blending in upon my people.

"Sire," Merlin's brows furrow when he sees me placing the cloak around my shoulders.

I had not told him of my plans to leave the castle walls tonight.

"What is it, Merlin?" I am sure to drag out his name so that he can hear my annoyance.

"It's Gwen, Arthur," he knows that he has my attention. "She and Morgana were set to return by sundown, but they have yet to return."

I look out of the window that stands across from me. The sun has already is set upon Camelot. I do not like that they are out in the darkening evening. I throw my cloak into Merlin's arms and take a deep breath, trying to keep my panic at bay. They are probably fine. Guinevere has to be all right. I should have sent more guards with them. I should have sent my most trusted men with them. I don't wait for Merlin to follow as I quicken my pace to the council room. We must make sure that we spare no knight. We must dispatch everyone who we can afford. I want Guinevere and Morgana home.

 **A/N:**

 **I am so sorry for the sporadic updates. The semester is coming to a close, and I have a reading week so I am taking a good bit of time to try to get this story done. Thanks to those of you who have stuck through it with me. I appreciate it so much! I hope that everyone had a good holiday weekend, and I look forward to seeing your feedback!**


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